


eyes like sinking ships

by Veraison



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Post-Canon, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veraison/pseuds/Veraison
Summary: “Tomorrow, some of my councilors will accuse me of having seduced my uncle,” Laurent said, voice without tone or color.Nikandros snorted. “Your uncle has been dead for over a year.”“They do not care,” Laurent replied and massaged his temples. “They are saying I made my uncle a traitor, that I made him go mad with my pretty face.”“Well, they can always say so,” Nikandros said, still not sure what it was that was so important he was needed in the middle of the night. “That does not make it true, or give them any evidence.”Laurent looked at him, white as a ghost, his skin was so thin his face for a moment resembled a skull. “Ah kyros, but you see, there is a possibility they will find evidence.”-----Nikandros and Laurent travel to Arles and find themselves caught in a plot set by a dead man.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Laurent & Nikandros (Captive Prince)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 160





	eyes like sinking ships

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dancyon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancyon/gifts).



“His Highness is sea sick,” Nikandros told Jord, who was standing by the side of the boat. Jord looked back at him, bemused. “Truly? This is the first time that has happened.”

Nikandros shrugged. “He said the sea is unusually rough today.” He and Jord both turned their gaze at the horizon: the sunset was mirrored by the still, blue surface. The wind was so weak they had resorted to rowing. A seagull cried somewhere. 

Laurent was hung over. The swelling waves did not help. He kept his head close to the bucket. All his laces were opened, so the breeze cooled his sweat and made his skin cold. He could feel the goosebumps rising.

If Damen had been there, he would have held Laurent’s hair. He would have given him a blanket. But Damen was not there. He was back in Ios, and that was the reason Laurent had drunk in the first place. The idea of returning to Arles, to its ornate halls and gilded roofs without Damen made him sick in a way even griva could not. Arles may have been his home, but he had been happy in Ios.

This was not the first time Laurent had visited Arles since the death of his uncle, the death of Kastor. But this was the first time he would do so without Damen.

“Take care of him,” Damen had begged Nikandros, once Laurent had fallen asleep. His oldest and dearest friend had held his hand and thought he could not trust Nikandros in this. Nikandros might not have liked Laurent, but he had known what it meant, when he had agreed to represent Akielos in Vere in Damen’s place. 

“He drank so much,” Damen had said, his own breath smelling of wine, “because he is scared. There are still his Uncle’s men there. He is not safe yet. The Regent might have been the deadliest of the vipers, but the whole court is a snake pit.”

Suddenly Nikandros had hoped that he, too, could have drunk himself into oblivion. 

Back under the deck, in the King’s cabin, Laurent lay on his side. Nikandros peaked in.

“Are you awake?” He hoped for a negative response, or better, no response at all.

“Yes, kyros, I am. Come in.” Laurent forced himself to sit up and tied his laces in a haist. He combed his hair with his fingers and waved for Nikandros to sit on the chair. The cabin was small, there was Laurent’s sleeping berth, a desk with a chair and nothing else. 

For a moment they just looked at each other. Damen had asked Laurent to trust Nikandros, had told him to follow Nikandros’ counsel as he would Damen’s, which was not saying much. 

“Exalted told me that Arles is not as stable, as loyal to you, as you both had hoped for.”

Laurent chuckled. “As stable and loyal as Damianos had hoped for. I know my country men. Power does not change hands easily in Vere. You see, it has to be passed on by so many of them. Each of my councilmen had given my Uncle a finger or two, at least. They need a reminder that Vere is to change and I am not a boy king for them to puppeteer.”

While talking to Laurent, who even when badly hungover, spoke like this and looked like a young god from the legends, Nikandros could not understand how anyone could stand in his way and expect to live. To underestimate Laurent of Vere was to stab one’s own heart. Deathly and messy.

It was night when they finally came to Arles. The last leg had been done with horses and Nikandros wanted nothing more than to wash himself and go to bed. But of course, it was never so simple with Veretians. Laurent had let Nikandros ride next to him and as soon as they passed the gate, had whispered to him:

“Welcome to Arles, get ready for the theatrics.”

Nikandros sighed. In Akielos, plays were done by actors, on the stage, as it ought to be done. 

He soon found out that Veretian aristocracy resembled the actors of Akielos more than its nobles. They were loud, dressed in bright colors and had painted their faces. Their hair had been gathered up and carried more decorations than the crown room of Ios. 

Nikandros bowed and shook hands and exchanged kisses. He had no idea of anyone’s social standing, so he answered the same way he was greeted. Laurent’s face had a green hue on it, but otherwise even Nikandros had to say he did fine. 

If Nikandros had had more time to prepare for Vere, he would have studied its noble houses and decorum. Damen had given him advice before sending him away, but Damen was a king, he was allowed to behave in ways others were not. So Nikandros kept his mouth shut and smiled. When he was asked complicated questions that seemed to imply more than one would think at first glance, or when he received badly hidden threats, he apologized for his poor Veretian and asked if the person could repeat the same in Akielon.

“I will show the kyros his rooms and then we shall retire for the night.” 

At Laurent’s command, the people parted and let Nikandros and Laurent through.

“You did well,” Laurent muttered. Nikandros took the compliment and told himself the warm feeling came from the fact that his being in Laurent’s good graces would please Damianos.

The rooms meant for Nikandros were better than he had thought. Even when Damen had sprung his request on Nikandros at the last moment, Laurent had clearly thought about this for longer. The door opened to a meeting room, with a lit fireplace and simple, Akielon wood chairs. There was a table with a map on top of it. No heavy tapestry in sight. Nikandros sat down by the fireplace and closed his eyes.

The next morning he was woken by a knock on his door. Nikandros stretched and got up from his bed. He thought it would be a servant bringing in breakfast and saw no reason to get dressed.

“Come in,” he ordered. The door opened, revealing prince Laurent. Nikandros grabbed a chiton as fast as he could.

“Well kyros, you sure are excited to see me,” Laurent drawled. “I was planning to show you our library. Damianos told me you, unlike him, enjoy them. But I will let you get dressed first.”

Nikandros took that to mean Laurent would give him his privacy. Soon it was evident the prince only meant to give him the time to dress himself. Nikandros could not order the prince in his own castle. He dressed himself, with his back to Laurent. It sounded almost like someone was giggling lightly.

Nikandros had wanted to stay mad, but as soon as Laurent opened the doors, he knew he had lost the battle. The library was immense, a hall with walls reaching up to the sky. It was an open space with three different levels. There were ladders next to bookshelves, maps on the walls, full of color, and the ceiling itself was painted with star signs. 

“Anything in particular you are interested in?” Laurent asked, trying his best to hold his pride and excitement in check. Damen had shown him so many wondrous things in Akielos, he had wanted to do the same, but so much of Arles had already been ruined for Damen. The library would not have impressed him. Nikandros was the next best thing, he would tell about this to Damen in ways Damen could understand. And Damen would be pleased to hear Laurent being nice.

“I would like to practice my Veretian, since I will be staying a while.” Nikandros could feel himself blush. “Any children’s books? I want to expand my vocabulary. Maybe we could see if our countries share any legends? That could be of use in the process of unification.”

Laurent let himself smile. “I happen to know from personal experience that we have plenty of story books here. Follow me!” He almost took off running. It took Nikandros a moment to follow, so baffled was he by the sight of a smiling and delighted Laurent.

They climbed up to the third level, which was filled with light shining in from the tall windows. They gave to a garden, full of marble statues and rose bushes, that climbed up the castle walls.

“This,” Laurent said and pulled out a book, “was my favorite when I was a child.”

He gave the book to Nikandros and took out another. This time, something blue fell on the floor, silently and slowly.  
Laurent bent down and held it in his hand like a wounded bird. It was a hair tie.

When reading, Auguste had always tied his hair. He had claimed it felt unnerving to see something move out the corner of his eye. As soon as he was done, he would free his hair and shake it until it had its volume back. He would forget his hair ties behind and Laurent would collect them. Auguste would trade them for candy and other small gifts. Sometimes he would tie Laurent’s hair too. They would both look in the mirror. “We match,” Auguste would exclaim and Laurent’s heart grew until it filled his lungs.

Laurent remembered this one. Pale blue, when Auguste usually dressed in dark colors. Because as a boy, Laurent had worn baby blue clothes. There were golden fleurs-de-lys on the blue background. He held the small bow in his hand. And he had once done, he tied it on his wrist. This time he could not return it to Auguste. He tasted blood in his mouth, thinking of all the hidden places in Arles, all the unused hallways and rooms, how many of them carried a memento or memory of his brother. The thought both comforted and scared him. He would always carry his brother with him, but then, he would never want to leave Auguste behind, no matter how much it hurt. There was an empty spot next to him. He had been born to a world with Auguste already there, and his life would end without him. Without any clear memory of his brother’s face or voice. He hardly had any memories, just echoes of them.

“Here, this was also quite good,” Laurent continued and thrust a third book in Nikandros’ lap.

The day was slow and quiet. Nikandros spent it in the library. Laurent had had to leave, giving the library one last look. The books had been a good pick and Nikandros made sure to take note of any similarities in tales. And there were quite many. Two nations so different in their governance, yet they wanted to teach their children the same lessons. Nikandros had listened to Laurent and Damen when they talked of Vere, but he had never thought it could be like this. Quiet, well-lit libraries.

Later that evening, he took a bath in his own chambers and dined alone. He would soon make connections and meet the members of the council. First, he needed to make sense of his surroundings. And Arles was vast. And even beautiful, in its own way. Nikandros understood now, what Damen meant when he talked about one empire.

Laurent came after midnight. His usual brightness had dimmed to a dull glow and the bags under his eyes told Nikandros that something was wrong. He let Laurent in, but he did not sit down, instead choosing to stand in the middle of Nikandros’ room, looking like a commander ready for a war.

“Tomorrow, some of my councilors will accuse me of having seduced my uncle,” Laurent said, voice without tone or color. 

Nikandros snorted. “Your uncle has been dead for over a year.”  
“They do not care,” Laurent replied and massaged his temples. “They are saying I made my uncle a traitor, that I made him go mad with my pretty face.”

“Well, they can always say so,” Nikandros said, still not sure what it was that was so important he was needed in the middle of the night. “That does not make it true, or give them any evidence.”

Laurent looked at him, white as a ghost, his skin was so thin his face for a moment resembled a skull. “Ah kyros, you see, there is a possibility they will find evidence.”

Nikandros stayed quiet for a moment. Then he asked, fearing the answer:

“Does Damen know?”

Laurent nodded. “He does. At least some of it.”

“Good. Then there is nothing to worry about. Let them speak their rumors, let them show which ones are still loyal to your Uncle. You are the heir to the throne, there is nothing you should fear in your own kingdom.”

Lauren grimaced. “That might be true in your country. But they will once again accuse me of incest, of unnatural lust for my brother. They will say I seduced my Uncle and before him, Auguste.” This was the first time Nikandros heard the golden prince’s name from Laurent’s lips.

“They will say that I am incapable to rule, that I am mad.” Laurent took a shaking breath. “They will say that if I ever succeed in having an heir, I will ruin him the same way I ruined my family.” Laurent smiled in a terrible fashion. “They will say I shall doom Vere and them all.”

Nikandros did not answer. He tried to think how he thought a Veretian lord might.

“What kind of evidence do you think they have?” He had to swallow down a bile rising in his throat. “Were there any witnesses, of the things between you and the Regent?”

Laurent shook his head. “No, if you mean fucking. Witnesses to other things, that he could make appear innocent? Riding with me in front of him, us spending the night together after my brother died, he taking me with to places. Yes.” Laurent took a deep breath.

“I must know what you think of this. You represent Akielos here. They will call our engagement into question. They believe a king would never accept damaged goods. I need to know on whose side you will stand on.”

Nikandros turned to Laurent. He had not thought about that. He had not for a second doubted his decision. It had not even been a decision, it was a reflex.

“In Akielos, we do not blame children for their suffering.”

The next morning came both too early and not fast enough. As the sun began to rise, Nikandros saw Laurent get more anxious. He would not stay put, instead choosing to walk around in circles. 

“I feel like I am still hungover and this is a fever dream.” Laurent felt his own forehead with false hope. “They must have been planning this for ages. But they wanted to do this when Damen was back in Ios. They thought I would be alone.” Laurent stopped and Nikandros’ blood chilled at the look on his face. “They thought I was a lamb ready for slaughter.”

It was dishonorable to stab a man in the back. It was dishonest to fight an unarmed man. Nikandros had no words for what the council of Vere was doing. Part of him wanted to storm the great hall and demand answers. But Laurent had said they would let them attack first.

“Let them come to me first.” And so they sat in the room, surrounded by men who wanted Laurent off the throne. Nikandros sat by Laurent’s right side, where Damen would have sat.

The meeting started as usual. There was too little money in the chest, the taxes were too high. At some point Nikandros even hoped it had all been a false alarm. But then Pierre stood up. He had been one of Laurent’s Uncle’s men. But he had sworn his loyalty to Laurent. Now they would see what his word was worth. 

“The council had been made aware of a matter we can not ignore. There has been talk of the prince and his inappropriate relations with his family members.”

“Oh shut it,” a councilwoman, one of the few, shouted, “we all know the rumors.”

Pierre did his best not to smile. “This is not about the late prince, councilwoman Vannes. This is about our former Regent.”

Silence flooded the room. Pierre continued:

“We believe that prince Laurent used his appearance to lure in his uncle. We are all aware of the personal weakness the Regent had for young boys. We have heard prince Laurent seduced him and toyed with him, until he went mad with love. He did wrong in lusting after his own nephew, but we can not blame a man for falling victim to a pretty boy’s face. He would not be the first one.”

That earned some chuckles around the room. Nikandros could not believe his ears.

“And,” Pierre went on, encouraged by the reaction he had got, “if these rumors were to be true, we thought it to be of the utmost importance that the Akielon king be informed.”

He fixed his eyes on Nikandros. The room waited and Nikandros stood up.

“What evidence do you have of this?” His voice sounded strong, even when his mind was somewhere else. Back in Ios, back home.

“Letters.” Pierre took a stack of papers his assistant handed him. Every council member seemed to try to get a closer look.

Nikandros grunted. “From the Regent to you? Ramblings of a madman and traitor.”

“No,” Pierre replied, “Letters from his Highness Prince Laurent to his Uncle, the former Regent of Vere.”

The room erupted in a mess of screaming and whispering. Like a marketplace after new merchants had come to town. 

Nikandros did not sit down. He waited until the worst of it was over and then said:

“Before you go on, let me ask you about Veretian trials. In Akielos, once the accusation has been made, the accused has a week to gather evidence against the claim. I know Vere views my people as barbarians, so the time here must be longer than that. After all, this has been part of the process since the Artesian empire, the mother to both of our nations.” If this had been Akielos, Nikandros would have burned the letters. He would have told them to find the Regent’s rotting body and geld it. But this was not Akielos, this was Vere. He should never let them know how he felt.

Pierre appeared as if he had been struck. He went white, then red. councilwoman Vannes stood up.

“Thank you, kyros Nikandros. While this is not an official trial, I understand that because of the coming marriage and union of our countries, this affects all of us heavily. I am sure we all want this to be solved as soon as possible, but that does not mean we should not do our due diligence. I say we give the prince a week to prove his innocence, as is proper in a civilized nation.”

Nikandros was aware that Pierre could always leak the letters, but that would mean Laurent got his hands on the same information and that could give him the means to gain an upper hand in some way.  
Vannes stopped speaking, her gaze on Laurent. Nikandros followed it. Laurent had bit his lower lip so hard it was bleeding. His face reminded Nikandros of a death mask. At the same time, his back was straight and he held his head high. His eyes were blue and gray, the steel of a sword. 

“Thank you, councilwoman. I will try to find some time to disprove these ridiculous lies.” Laurent flicked his wrist and the whole council got up on their feet.

“You are dismissed,” Laurent commanded. “Kyros, you are to stay with me, there are Akielon matters that need our attention.”

“They are my letters," Laurent said as soon as they were alone. “My Uncle must have kept them. I did not think he would have. He never said anything about them.” 

It came out like a confession. It felt the same to Laurent as vomiting. His hands shook. It had been so close that Pierre would have read those old words. That they would all have heard how Laurent had tried to win his Uncle’s approval. He had been fifteen, begging his Uncle to take him back, to love him. Laurent had threatened his Uncle, he had promised his body in exchange for family. He signed them with his signet ring.

This time the letters had not been read. But they would be, in a week. Laurent would sit before his council, with Nikandros by his side, and he would have to listen to them. They would make copies, once the letters were proclaimed legitimate, and they would send them to Ios, to Damen.  
They had never talked about his Uncle. Damen knew, of that Laurent was sure. But if he were to hear what Laurent had written, he could change his mind. He thought Laurent a victim, an unwilling participant. Laurent lifted his hand to his mouth.

“If you need to be sick, tell me. There are plenty of vases here.”

Nikandros’ voice made Laurent shudder. He wanted to send the man away, but he knew that if he were to be alone, it would not end well.

“We need to start thinking of a plan,” Laurent decided. “We will prove that my Uncle had young pets before me. We need to interview as many of them as we can find to prove my Uncle’s predatory behavior. If we can not find them, as I fear because my Uncle would never leave that sharp a weapon undrawn, we will look for their relatives, old friends, whoever is willing to talk. I need a witness to give a good judgement of my adolescent self. Berenger would be good for that. I shall write to him.” 

“Laurent, you do not look well.” Nikandros’ worry made Laurent’s temper flare.

“Is that any surprise to you? I know that you and Damianos share the same notion of goodness in people. These are not people, these are my Uncle’s pawns. He has set me a trap from beyond the grave. And who is to say how many more there are to be found. I might have won Vere, but he has ruined it. I have nothing but the still smoking remains. They can not take my crown from me, but they can take my reputation, my pride. Do you understand that those letters will soon be in circulation?”

Nikandros sat down next to Laurent.

"You should inform Jord, this will affect your security. And write to Damen."

Laurent recoiled physically. "And have him here, listening to the letters too? Your referral will suffice."

"At least write to him and tell him what is happening. You are engaged, he needs to know what is happening in Vere."

Before Laurent could answer, a guard came to tell them that Lady Vannes had asked for an audience. Lauren thought back to her words at the meeting.

"Let her in," he ordered.

Vannes came in and curtsied. "Your highness, I wish to help you in this trial."

"Why?" Laurent asked. Before agreeing, he needed to know the price.

"Because if the Regent was fooled by a boy of fifteen, he should never have been the Regent in the first place." Vannes glanced at Nikandros, who could see that was not the whole reason. There was pity and understanding to be found in Vannes’ straight back and emotionless face.

Laurent did not know what to say. Finally, he decided to give her an opportunity to prove herself.

“Fine. You can look through the pet contracts. There should be records to be found somewhere. Find out what you can about my Uncle’s former pets, especially the ones before Marlas happened.” Laurent pushed himself up from his chair. “I will see if I can find out if they have any other evidence. And I will talk to Paschal, write to Berenger.” He stormed to the door, but paused once he grasped the door handle.

“Kyros, please write to Damianos and tell him that his presence is not needed. There is nothing he could do for me now.”

Nikandros wrote the letter as soon as he got to his rooms. Laurent had shown him where the Veretian messengers were, but Nikandros did not trust them. He had his own guard with him, he could do with one man fewer than usually. He explained the situation clearly, but simply. He tried not to let his emotions make their way into the words. Laurent was right, Damen would not be of any use here, not with the snakes crawling to the surface and fighting for their spot in the sun. 

Vannes spent three days trying to find a pet that had once been Laurent’s Uncle’s. On the fourth day, she tried to find their relatives.

“There is nothing there. Based on the rumors I heard, they were all urchins. No family, no friends. I will see if any of the other pets still remember them. But we would have to prove their word to the council.”

Laurent wanted to pull out his hair. He wanted to hit his head against the stone walls. 

“Alright,” he said.

Vannes clasped her hand behind her back. “However, I have another idea. We do not even try to find a witness for the Regent’s predatory behavior.”

Laurent raised his eyebrow. “Instead we do what, councilwoman? I take it that you have a suggestion.”

Vannes nodded. “Instead of trying to prove that your Uncle was a predator, we prove that anyone interested in children is the one responsible for the hurt they caused. That children cannot consent, not to pet contracts or sleeping with someone. That children are, inherently by the virtue of being children, innocent in these matters. That a thirteen year old boy is not capable of seducing an adult man without that man’s will. And it is the responsibility of the adult to refuse any offerings made to them by children.”

Laurent’s throat was so dry the words scratched it. “And how are we going to do that?”

“We remind them what thirteen year olds are like. I will bring in their children, their nieces and nephews, their sisters and brothers. It will not affect every one of them, but hopefully it will remind the rest of what we are truly talking about here. We are talking about responsibility, acknowledging that by nature, children are to be cared for.”

Nikandros had been listening to them. He had not been able to offer much in the last few days. Vere and its laws were new to him. His speech about fair trials had been made up on the spot. Later Vannes had told him that in Vere, accusations were usually handled on the spot. The court loved its spectacles. It dawned on Nikandros that at least a few of them had craved to hear what an adolescent Laurent had written to his Uncle. It made Nikandros sick to his stomach. The idea of anyone reading through his own letters was bad enough, even when the contents were often nothing but dull. He wondered how Laurent felt. It was not enough that he had lived through the abuse behind these same walls. Now his own council was asking him to explain it to them.

Berenger came to court. He, unlike other nobles, was dressed in a sensible manner, which made Nikandros instantly prefer him to the others. So did his apparent concern for his prince.

“Of course I shall give them a detailed report on your character. I will remind them of the mercy you showed them. I will remind them you lost your father and brother, and your Uncle used it against you,” he said, still kneeling in front of Laurent in the prince’s private rooms. 

“Thank you,” Laurent muttered. Nikandros noticed how deep the shadows under his eyes were, how gaunt his face had begun to look. It was midnight, they could hardly see each other in the light of the few candles lit in the room. Laurent’s hair shone brighter than them.

When Berenger left, and Laurent once again turned back to old letters, from his Uncle to his father, to Auguste, hoping to find a slip up somewhere between the lines of governing, Nikandros spoke up:

“When was the last time you slept or ate?”

Slowly, as if underwater, Laurent blinked. “You may not have noticed, but I have been busy. We happen to have an emergency on our hands.”

“It won’t get better with you fainting from exhaustion. I shall ask the servants for something light. I will go through the letter for you, you should at least close your eyes for a moment.”

“How touching, you are concerned about me.” Laurent had not once lifted his eyes from the words before him. “If you knew Veretian better, maybe you could try to decipher my Uncle’s words. Then again, you are still just an Akielon.”

Nikandros snatched the paper from Laurent’s hands.

“Alright, enough of your posturing. I will read these aloud for you, while you lie down.”

The servants came with wine, cheese and fresh bread. Nikandros pondered on asking for some broth, but Laurent had not agreed to eating anything, so he did not want to push his luck.

Laurent took a sip from his goblet. “Alright, start when you are ready. We are in no hurry.” He lay on his bed. He was still fully clothed, but Nikandros hoped he would fall asleep at some point, even for a short while.

Nikandros kept his thoughts on the letters and began.

Once in a while Laurent would correct his pronunciation or take a look at the papers himself. Otherwise he said nothing. Then, when Nikandros came to a part where King Aleron wrote to his brother about his oldest son, Nikandros forced himself to read Auguste’s name out loud, Laurent inhaled sharply.

“I wonder,” he began. “I wonder what my brother would think of me now. Would he blame me for what happened with my Uncle.”

“I never knew your brother,” Nikandros answered carefully, “but even back in Akielos, we knew how much he cared for you.”

Laurent laughed bitterly. “Yes, he did. When I was an innocent child. I am sure he would have thought me a victim at first, but now? What if he had read the letters I wrote, would he still be on my side? I want to, I need to believe so. But I would like to know for sure.”

“Your Uncle knew,” Nikandros said, "Your uncle knew for sure what your brother would have thought of it. That is why he started only after Marlas. If your brother had even had a suspicion, your Uncle would have lost his head."

Laurent kept quiet and played with the blue hair tie he kept around his wrist. 

Vannes had been able to find people to work with her, willing to give their children as examples of innocence and childish trust. Berenger had edited his speech on Laurent’s character over and over again. Ancel had been able to find some pets that have been friends with Nicaise. Or at least had seen him with the Regent in less than complimentary light. That was all they had, nothing else.

Nikandros made himself believe it would be enough. It all made him feel as if he was in a fever dream. Even worse was that Laurent seemed to himself believe what he had been accused of. Nikandros wished Damen was there, to break through the walls and explain it in terms Laurent had no choice but to understand. 

They stood outside, on Laurent’s balcony. Laurent was leaning on its stone railing, as still as a statue.

“I have not thanked you,” he said, speaking to the stars. Finally, Nikandros understood he had just been spoken to.

“You are my future king," he simply replied. 

“We will see about that tomorrow.” Laurent took in the stars for one last time. “We should go to sleep.”

“We should,” Nikandros agreed. The moon was full. Its pale light made strange shadows play on Laurent’s face. 

They stood in silence, separated by a yard and words. 

“You could have agreed with them. Not because you thought me responsible, but because you do not like me.” Laurent did not specify anything, but he did not need to.

The walls may not have come down, but there were some bricks missing.

“I may not always like you,” Nikandros emphasized the word ’always’ ,”but you are Damen’s family and he is mine. That makes you family to me.”

“It has been a while since I had any family worth speaking of,” Laurent mused.

Most of the aristocracy had a right to attend council meetings, even if they could not vote on the issues or give speeches. Usually, they had better things to do. On the day of Laurent’s unofficial trial, the room was full. Some were standing in the hallway, asking for the doors to be kept open.

Laurent was dressed in black, laced so tight that Nikandros feared he might faint from lack of blood flow. Having learnt how much the Veretians loved ceremonies, Nikandros was surprised how soon the formalities were over and they were once again facing Pierre with the letters. Vannes had given her first speech, reminding all that moral failings and the private life of a sovereign, especially what happened in the bedroom, had never been a reason to question someone’s rule. 

“What we have here,” she had said. “Is the former Regent’s word against the prince’s. Nothing more than that.”

The last week did not seem to have existed at all.

Pierre stood up and Laurent tensed. He had built up his walls, but he did not know if he could take it. Was it not enough humiliation to have the letters read for all to hear, did he also have to break before their very eyes?

Suddenly, there was a havoc in the hallway. Minor nobles and their servants were shoved aside and Laurent could hear a familiar voice that made his heart beat again.

In the doorway stood Damianos. This was not the polite, diplomatic Damianos that had visited Arles before, making small talk and trying to bridge the gap between their nations. This was Damianos, the Prince killer. Laurent’s blood ran cold. He shot a glare at Nikandros, who shook his head. 

“I told him not to come,” he whispered to Laurent.

Of course, Laurent had once again failed to take into account Damen’s own will and plans. His chiton was brown with dust and his sword was drawn.

The only one not looking for a way out was Pierre, still standing with his letters.

“Ah, your Majesty. I had hoped you would show up.” He turned to a full circle, like an actor addressing his audience, making sure not to miss a single one. “I invited him here, because I think the most pressing matter here is the engagement. Councilwoman Vannes told us that moral failings do not make someone an unsuitable king. That may be so, but they may make one an unsuitable husband. I am sure our Akielon friend would not tolerate used goods in his bed.” Pierre handed the letters in Damen’s direction. “Here, your Majesty, the proof you asked for.”

Damen took them. It took everything in Laurent not to vomit.

“I cannot read a single word in this darkness,” Damen complained. “Someone, hand me a torch.”

A servant hurried to him with a small torch. 

“Are all the letters here, councilman?” Damen asked.

Pierre nodded. “Yes, they are.”

Laurent knew that as well. He knew exactly how many letters he had sent to his Uncle, or left for him to find in his rooms. They were all accounted for. And he could see his signet on them. It was all the proof they needed.

Damen crumbled the papers in his fist and then held them to the flame. Once they caught on fire, he let go of them. They fell on the floor. Pierre was opening and closing his mouth, trying to find the words to say. When most of the papers were ash, Damen put the fire out with his sandal, crushing it under his feet.

“I do not care what has happened to Laurent. He shares with me of his past what he wants. None of you has the right to his private thoughts.” Damen showed his teeth, white in the light of the torch in the dim room. “You all just watched as his Uncle molested little boys. Do not forget, I was here, I saw it. None of you said anything. And now you are blaming a child? Saying that he somehow made his Uncle lose his mind with his charms? Has none of you seen a child of thirteen?” Damen looked at Laurent. “We have been planning a law, which forbids anyone under the age of sixteen from taking a pet contract. Furthermore, it forbids anyone over the age of sixteen from sleeping with people younger than them. I once believed some things went without saying, that we had no need to turn common sense into law. Now I learn that you are not to be trusted.”

Damen knelt in front of Laurent. “We are under your authority here, you can take it from here.”

Laurent touched the hair tie on his wrist. He thought of Auguste, he thought of Damen, of Nikandros. He looked over his shoulder at Vannes and Berenger. Ancel was waiting with the pets and children, ready to show how vile the accusation had been.

Laurent smiled. “Let us continue from here. I am sure we can get the law about the age limit signed today.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to request here:  
> https://nikandlaurent.tumblr.com/
> 
> this is my first time writing plot so i appreciate comments lol


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